


City of Lights

by DemonsDaughter



Series: Collared [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, M/M, Mech Preg, Mpreg, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Transformer Sparklings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:17:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8965705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonsDaughter/pseuds/DemonsDaughter
Summary: After Tarn goes on a rampage and kills Krok, perishing soon after due to the severity of his crime, both mechs find themselves in the afterlife. Primus grants Tarn one last chance before he is damned so that he can make amends with Krok and find his happy ending.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Leonard_Snart_Robber_of_ATMs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonard_Snart_Robber_of_ATMs/gifts).



> This story is a gift for theworldsbiggestmistakewasme <3 I promised I would make things right for this pairing and I hope I did them justice!!!!!
> 
> And in case anyone was wondering what the hell I'm talking about with the whole 'color fleck' thing with the souls in the Well, this is kinda how I envisioned them:
> 
> http://www.goldspirits.com/img/slides/2.jpg
> 
> The bots would still be in their same mortal forms, just with the colors of their sparks being visible and in the form of shimmery energy flecks. No idea if that makes sense, but I'm trying hahaha

Krok found himself in the most beautiful city of lights he had ever seen. His death had been terrifying and sudden, yet the mech’s soul had been sent somewhere that looked so familiar to New Iacon yet also intensely different. Lights glowed from all the windows of the towering skyscrapers, the opalescent brightness filling the space with warmth. 

The former leader of the Scavengers looked at his hands, seeing they were partially transparent with flecks of his blue and yellow spark colors shimmering like suspended gold and shards of sapphire within his frame. Well, there was no question about him being dead now. The mech took a deep vent and started to walk into the busy realm of the afterlife.

The streets of the city were bustling with other bots, his optics watching all sorts of souls pass by him. Tanks, sports models, shuttles, beast-formers, everyone who had ever died was there, milling about in the city of limbo. Krok panicked for a moment, unsure where he was supposed to go or what he should do. He felt lost, his soul anxious and alone despite the crowd.

It appeared that some bots had chosen to stay in limbo, setting up bars and all other sorts of shops that one might see in the mortal world. Others though…other souls bypassed the city and hurried down alleyways and side streets. Deciding he wanted to see where they were going, Krok followed a femme on her way towards an alley.

The street sign said her designation, Sunbeam, and Krok watched her stride down the alley and into a bright white light. She was going somewhere, but it appeared that Krok needed to find his own street sign before he could continue on. The light had disappeared along with the femme and left a dark alley behind. Maybe that was how Primus judged someone, sending them to a light that could mean the Well or Pit. Everyone had their own place marked with their name and whether or not they wanted to leave limbo was their choice.

Krok asked silently where he should go, wondering if their god would tell him. He startled when he felt a light tug on his spark, the mech turning away from the now dark alleyway and back into the main street. Figures moved around him on their way to judgement, Krok taking a deep vent as he was urged to round a corner and walk down a side street. On the street sign his name was printed, the Scavenger cautiously peering down the road to see if there was a light waiting for him. 

There was light just as he had suspected, his soul nervously hanging back. Was he ready for this?

‘Yes,’ he told himself, stepping into the middle of his street and walking forward.

He reached out with a hand to touch the golden white light, his hand greeted with the most wonderful warmth. Without a second thought of hesitation, Krok stepped through into the Well and found himself within the entryway of a gorgeous home. It was what he had always dreamed of having. He walked further into his new abode until he came to a fancy kitchen, a note written in his own handwriting on the counter. 

*Remember to call Radar and Agonizer for drinks and dinner tomorrow*

Krok couldn’t believe what he was reading, feeling his very soul glow with joy. His old team members were here! They were okay! He laughed with relief, the thoughts of where his old squad had been plaguing him for a great deal of his life after he got separated from them. Finally…finally he could know they all had found peace and so had he. 

Krok jumped when he heard a knock on the front door, his optics bright as he wondered who it could be. The mech trotted over to get the door and on his way gazed out a window. Outside his home in the Well was a beautiful expanse of cyber-trees and a rolling field of metallic grassland that had a pair of content equinoids munching away at the greenery. It was gorgeous and everything he had longed for in life. What he could not have it in the mortal realm, the Well had provided.

Once he got to the door, he opened it without a second thought. Maybe it was another friend coming to visit! Overjoyed with the peace he felt at the thought, Krok trusted everything would be alright as he swung open the entrance to his home. He instantly felt his soul tense with alarm and terror when he saw someone standing there whom he had never expected to see again. 

Tarn stood on his doorstep, his frame also somewhat transparent like Krok’s but with flecks of red and orange shimmering in him like slivers of gold. Apparently his spark color had not originally been purple and black to match his armor as Krok had imagined. But that was the lowest priority of his questions…How in the name of Primus had Tarn made it into his Well?! Krok had assumed Tarn would have been sent to Pit for what he had done!

“What are you doing here?” Krok demanded, backing up as he was about to slam the door shut in Tarn’s faceplate. 

“Krok?” Tarn asked softly, his optics lowered in respect. “I need to speak with you. Primus is giving me twenty minutes to say what I need to before I…before I have to leave.”

“Why should I talk to you when you killed me?! You’re a backstabbing murderer!” 

“Krok, please…let me tell you everything. I can show you from my memories, too. I…I need to say I’m sorry and a few other things as well.”

Krok thought he should have known better than to let Tarn enter, but he trusted in the god of creation and opened the door wider for Tarn’s soul to step inside. The tank rumbled a thanks, his same silken voice like a siren’s song to Krok. Even if the mech had killed him, Krok still loved him somehow. Tarn had done horrible things, but the Scavenger felt that he could forgive so long as he understood what had caused the tank to snap.

“Tell me, then. Tell me what you need me to know before Primus takes you somewhere else.”

Tarn bowed his helm, taking a deep invent. Krok watched the mech’s massive sides rise and fall, the shimmers of his soul colors swirling around in his partially transparent frame. He looked so like he did when they had been mortal, but the red and orange flecks stood out against his fainter armor colors of black and purple. 

“May I show you?”

“How do you intend to do that?”

Tarn said nothing, instead reaching out to take Krok’s hand in his. The blue and yellow mech suddenly found himself as a viewer to all of who Tarn was. He was Damus, Glitch, Tarn…his life events flashing before Krok’s optics. He had endured empurata and been abused for his abilities as an Outlier. Megatron and Lobe had manipulated him into a killer, Tarn having used the Empyrean Suite to drown out the screams of smelting prisoners at Grindcore where he had been commander. The Decepticon mask that had always covered his faceplate was in place so that Tarn could close his optics and not see the horrible things he and his DJD did. 

Then the memories of his life proceeded through war, his brutality and hate encouraged while any caring or love was cruelly beaten out of him. He was melded into a perfect killing machine, but not long after he had lost all of his old self and had become the perfect killer, the war ended and not in the favor of the Decepticons. Autobots won, captured Decepticons, and made them into harmless pets and prisoners. Krok felt Tarn’s pain of failure when he was captured, collared, and his Outlier ability suppressed.

As time went on and they got to know one another, Tarn let Krok feel his frustrations of wanting to kill his captor and be free while fighting off the emotion of love that was slowly creeping into his spark. He was told never to feel something like that, as if love itself was a signal of failure. So when he had gotten the chance to attack, Tarn had taken it. It was a way to have control, of having a say what he did in his life. What he did was not out of hate towards Krok himself, but out of the fury and loathing Tarn had towards his own broken life. He hated himself for failing the one thing he had been trained to do and equally despised how he was rejecting the one person who had ever cared for him. It was a vicious cycle, the tank’s mental state having cracked.

At last he could show Krok everything, though, the tank pulling his hand away from Krok’s with a quiet sigh. Krok took a shaky step backwards, his soul shaken by the horrors Tarn had endured. Then he looked up at the tank’s faceplate, now void of all his scars. Those optics of his were scared and lost, like a youngling who had been separated from his creators in a big crowd. Tarn had no one. He had been taught to drive them away, and now only because he was dead could he show Krok he had never truly meant what he said or done. It had all been a product of his twisted, brutalized life.

“I’m so sorry, Krok.”

“Don’t be. None of what you did was because you wanted to do it. I see that now,” Krok said, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before he took Tarn’s hand again. “Stay here with me. We can start over, Tarn.”

“Krok, I’m only allowed to stay for twenty minutes…”

“No, you’re staying here as long as you want. Primus doesn’t get to say. I do. You killed me, so I get to decide if you stay or go.”

Tarn nervously nodded, sensing their creator god was considering the proposal. If he decided he didn’t want to forgive him. Well, Tarn would be spending the rest of eternity in Pit and he really didn’t want to see Unicron and all the other damned souls there. He’d much rather be with Krok, his one and only companion. 

He found himself being led along by Krok up a polished spiral staircase made of marble, the tank worried his pedes would scuff the surface as he plodded along. Amazingly nothing he touched was damaged, Krok’s peaceful resting place a safe haven for any soul. Tarn could feel Krok’s calm radiating from his very being, the tank rumble-purring quietly. Good. Krok deserved a happy ending. 

“I just got here, but this is how I always imagined my master berthroom to look!” Krok laughed, knowing right where the room would be since the home and the rest of his afterlife were all created with his own hopes and dreams. Little did he know that was why Tarn’s soul had been brought to him. 

Tarn had been one of Krok’s hopes and dreams for some time.

“It is gorgeous, Krok,” Tarn praised, stepping inside to gaze at the huge berth with soft bedding and a large skylight overhead. It was a beautiful master suite, a well organized desk facing another large window that overlooked the equinoid pasture to the side of the berth.

“Come on, you need to try it out with me. Which side of the berth do you want?” Krok asked, taking Tarn’s wrist and leading the tank over to the recharging area.

“I…Krok, I already said I was only allowed to stay for twenty minutes. I don’t think I’ll be sharing a berth with your for very long…”

“No, you’re staying. That’s an order,” Krok said, pulling back his face mask so he could shut Tarn up with a passionate kiss. “I don’t want you to go anywhere because I still love you. I still want you, Tarn,” he murmured, lips brushing Tarn’s as he spoke. The tank chuffed, stealing a quick kiss before he made a reply.

“Then I will stay as long as I can.”

Krok grinned, playfully shoving Tarn’s frame back into the berth so the tank toppled over into a soft ocean of blankets. Krok pounced on him after that, the pair starting to wrestle around with one another. Tarn felt his soul blooming with light, his optics as bright and warm as could be. He loved Krok. He adored him like nothing else, the tank happy to let the smaller mech rub his faceplate against his and mark him with his scent. They belonged to one another. Not as pets, but as companions. 

“I love you, Krok. I don’t want to leave,” Tarn whispered, Krok squeezing him in a hug.

“You’re not leaving. Stop saying that.”

Tarn chuffed cutely when he was kissed on the tip of his nose, the mech peppering kisses across Krok’s jawline and throat. He did made a tiny grunt when Krok suddenly flipped their positions, a knee shoved between Tarn’s thighs as he was pinned on his back. The tank rumbled and did show his dentas a little bit to say he wasn’t too sure about being submissive. 

“Tarn, don’t give me lip. You got to be the top bot for weeks before we got here.”

Tarn grumbled something but gave in, the mech happy to accept another kiss. His valve panel heated when he felt Krok deepen the affection, the tank instinctually spreading his legs. He usually got to be on top, but Krok was behaving as a good dominant and for once Tarn didn’t want to fight about it. He wanted Krok to take care of him and have a good time. Sometimes the biggest didn’t need to be on top!

“Hands and knees, Tarn.”

“You do love that position, don’t you?”  
“I can’t help it, it’s fun and we fit together nicely this way,” Krok snickered, moving off of Tarn so the tank could shift around. He was soon on hands and knees, his spike panel already snapped back to reveal a very well endowed breeding organ. The tank’s spike was stiff already, the sharp tip weeping prefluid. 

“Primus, you’re absolutely handsome,” Krok sighed, palming Tarn’s valve panel. “Open up, lover mine.”

Tarn pulled back his valve panel and revealed puffy valve lips slicked and glistening with lubricant. Krok purred his praises, running the pad of his thumb between the folds. They were engorged from arousal already, Tarn’s frame more than willing to mate. The larger mech grunted with surprise when he felt Krok’s glossa delve into his slit, lapping at his lubricant to get a taste. 

Krok ate Tarn out with a skill the tank greatly appreciated, the mech suckling at his outer node as well. The brute whined with need as his lower middle started to slowly tighten with arousal. He wanted more than Krok’s glossa. He needed his spike! Pushing his hips back towards Krok, Tarn presented himself in a way that made it clear he was ready to be mounted.

“Krok, I’m so sorry for what I did to you,” he whispered when he felt Krok’s frame drape over his back. It was awkward to lock lips from that angle, but Krok placed a kiss on the side of Tarn’s mouth anyways. 

“Hush. I forgive you and we can start a new life here. We’re not master and pet anymore. No one owns you or can tell you what to do. We’re free, Tarn. Truly free.”

Tarn leaned his helm back to press their cheeks together, purring loudly from his engine the entire time. He felt safe with Krok, finally allowing all the walls he had built to crumble. He was going to let Krok in and allow love and compassion to be a part of his being again. Krok could sense the change in the tank, rubbing his mate’s sides. 

“You ready?”

“Always,” Tarn chuckled, bumping his aft into Krok’s hips with eager insistence. 

Krok took a few moments to get settled on top of his larger companion, his spike turgid and stiff as it tried to find Tarn’s waiting valve. Krok lightly bit down on Tarn’s nape, holding him still as his hips gave a few experimental jabs. On the fourth try Krok’s spike sunk into wonderful heat and he growled, engine thrumming at the sensation.

Tarn grunted and groaned when Krok gave a few hearty thrusts and fully mounted, his spike pushing deeper with each movement until the organ was fully sheathed. Tarn’s valve walls rippled around it while the spike twitched, the two mechs shifting to get comfortable. Krok released Tarn’s neck and licked at the spot where he had made some light bite marks, crooning softly. 

“I love you, Tarn,” he soothed, hips starting to roll. Tarn moaned low, pushing his frame back against Krok’s. 

“And I love you, Krok. Hnnggff, take me…I want you to give me everything you can tonight,” he whispered, his voice sultry and inviting. No one would be able to resist his request when he used that tone. 

“With pleasure.”

Krok started slow and steady, pushing his spike deep into the silken tightness of his mate’s frame. His pelvic array ground up against Tarn’s aft, the two moving with one another as they coupled. On every inward thrust Tarn arched in a way that made their frames slide together with ease and grace only truly connected lovers could have.

Once Krok was ready, he gripped Tarn by his hips and started to rut. Tarn tended to like things a bit rougher and harder, so who was Krok to deny him something he wanted? The yellow and blue mech started to pant and grunt as he curled over Tarn’s back, biting occasionally at his mate’s neck and jaw when he could reach. Tarn was surprisingly quiet when they mated, sweet whines and groans what mostly emerged from him as he was fragged good and hard by his companion.

Krok’s grip on his hips soon morphed into a fiercer embrace with his arms as he fully let himself go. The mech pounded into Tarn’s frame, venting hard as he felt tightness in his lower middle. He was close! Chasing his overload, Krok once again bit Tarn’s nape to keep him still. The tank growled amongst his other love noises, his frame shifting so that his aft was tipped a little more into the thrusting spike.

Krok’s grunts and growls turned into loud groans as he came close to the end, his hips bucking hard between Tarn’s thighs as he reached his overload. He felt Tarn’s valve spasm and clamp down as it always did when he peaked, the tank letting out a strangled cry of completion. That was all Krok needed to jerk his spike tip deep, deep enough so that it went right through Tarn’s gel wall with a pinch, and then flooded the other bot with transfluid. 

Tarn snarled at the dull sting but didn’t try to buck Krok off, feeling the other mech had latched on very tightly and had no intentions of going anywhere. The tank panted hard, sides heaving as he felt his mate’s spike pulsing as it pumped him full of transfluid. The spike knot locked them together within moments after Krok’s overload, the pressure slightly uncomfortable but not painful. 

Krok shuddered and his hips gave a few final humps as he spilled everything he had into Tarn’s frame, the tank behaving nicely and allowing the mating to complete without a fuss. There was no snarling or snapping, just a blissed out tank and his loud venting. Once Krok’s spike ceased pulsing and became slightly less stiff, the Scavenger let out a shaky sigh and nuzzled Tarn’s hot cheek with his own. 

“You want a family, hmm?” Tarn growled affectionately, feeling his gestation chamber was full and taut thanks to the hefty donation from his companion. 

Krok was healthy and surely in the Well sparklings and creation could not be denied to them should that be their wish. Tarn had never spoken it aloud, but he had always had a soft spot for such innocence. Sparklings were always pure and good. It was the world that could damage them and ruin their spirits. But Tarn calmed when he realized their world was the Well now, the cruelty of mortal lives never to touch them again.

“I sensed it was the right thing to do. I shouldn’t have assumed you would want the same thing, though. Tarn, I-”

“No, no, I’ve always liked sparklings,” Tarn rumbled, settling down on the berth so he could rest his tired arms. They were still locked tightly together, his valve getting tugged by Krok’s knot as the pair cuddled together.

Tarn and Krok waited for the spike tie to depressurize before they pulled apart, Krok slipping out of his mate with a wet pop. Tarn didn’t even bother to check his valve as he was sure there were no tears. A dribble of his lubricant oozed out, but hardly any transfluid escaped his now-full gestation chamber. The tank purred and snuggled in with Krok when the mech hugged him, pressing their chests together. 

“I do have a question for you. Why is your spark energy orange and red?”

“This body you see me in now, it was not my original frame. I was born as a sedan type and my coloration was red and orange. My first name was Damus,” Tarn murmured, nestling into the blankets of the berth. “So that is why you do not see these energy flecks or whatever we shall call them as purple and black.”

“I see. Well, I’m glad that life is behind you. Now it can be all about us.”

“Indeed,” Tarn sighed, content for once in his long and hard life. Primus was a forgiving god just as many had claimed. 

“Also, it’s been more than twenty minutes, Tarn. I think that’s a sign you get to stay,” Krok chuckled, pressing a kiss into Tarn’s forehead. The tank checked his internal timer and saw it had gone off almost an hour ago, the concept of time lost to him when he was with Krok.

His second chance had been granted in the form of a mech named Krok, the Scavenger smiling warmly as Tarn leaned in once more to exchange kisses.

***

Tarn met all of Krok’s old squadron the next morning and time passed with serenity Tarn had never known in life. Krok’s equinoids took a liking to him and Tarn was thrilled the day one took a copper carrot from his hand with a soft snort. The weeks went by in domestic bliss, the pair sharing their life stories and memories with one another and taking comfort in the fact that they were both safe and at peace, their souls flourishing. 

The tank also was pleased to find his middle did not stay slim for long. As months passed, Tarn began to sport a gravid frame, his belly distended with the promise of young. He patiently awaited the arrival of a family, content to be tended to by Krok. Finally it was time to deliver, the birthing process surprisingly not as agonizing as Tarn had expected. Perhaps the reason for that was because they were in the Well, a place where pain and suffering had no place.

“You can do it, Tarn. Deep vents,” Krok urged, helping the big mech as he panted and quietly began the process of delivering their young. “You’re doing so well.”

Tarn felt more tired than agonized as he birthed his first sparkling after a good six hours of labor. There was a great deal of pressure in his valve and lower back, the mech growling as he tried to ignore the discomfort and push hard. The first mechling emerged at last, a tiny wailing cry added into the heavy panting from Tarn. A second sparkling was on the way soon after, making it hard for the tank to check the firstborn and clean him off.

Thankfully Krok was a perfect Sire, swiftly picking up the crying bitlet and cleaning him with a soft blanket. Then he gazed at the tiny creation, the mechling opening and closing tiny hands as he blearily regarded his Sire. The newborn was clearly a little tank, treads already visible on his shoulders and lower arms. His optics were a deep purple, set in a helm that looked very close to Krok’s.

Krok didn’t have more time to stare at the little one though as Tarn had birthed a second bitlet, the tank snarling something about never feeling so tired in his life under his breath. He only had two mechlings, the tank shifting so he could tend to the second born. Krok watched with a warm smile as Tarn deftly cleaned the little one and proudly gazed at the sedan. He was blue and black with a few hints of red highlighting. Big scarlet optics stared at Tarn as the little one hiccuped a tiny sob.

“Hush,” Tarn purred, his vocalizer ability used to calm the tiny souls he and Krok held. “What lullaby shall I sing to them, Krok?”

“Anything you like,” Krok murmured, sitting down close to Tarn’s side to show him the tankling. Purple and yellow plating made the little one quite striking, his wide optics staring at his Carrier while Tarn began to sing. 

This time there was no intention to harm, his Outlier ability caressing the little souls so that they ceased crying and instead drifted off to recharge. Krok and Tarn curled up together, Krok leaning his helm against Tarn’s tank tread shoulder. 

“They’re amazing, Tarn,” he murmured, gazing at the newborns wrapped up in their blankets. Their tiny faces were peaceful as they were cradled close to their Sire and Carrier’s frames. 

“Of course they are. They’re our family,” Tarn chuckled, tilting his helm to the side to nuzzle his mate. “We have made a lot of work for ourselves, but I have to admit I’m excited. We’re blessed.”

“I never thought this would be us, laying together in my dream house with bitlets. And we even get to look out the skylight at the stars,” Krok exclaimed quietly, gazing out at an expanse of glittering universe and then back at his two resting sparklings and his handsome mate.

“Love will find a way,” Tarn hummed, wrapping an arm around Krok while he cradled the firstborn in the crook of his other arm. Krok nodded, holding the sedan sparkling up close to his chest.

“Indeed it does.”


End file.
